


where i come from, what i will always be

by Devin_Trinidad



Series: they were kids that i once knew [1]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, Pre-Marble Hornets, back when everyone was still in college and the operator hadn't messed with their lives, friendship between major characters, hints of mental illness and drug addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devin_Trinidad/pseuds/Devin_Trinidad
Summary: Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wallTo remind me that I am a foolTell me where I came from, what I will always beJust a spoiled little kid who went to catholic schoolWhen I am dead I won't join their ranks'Cause they are both holy and free-St. Bernard (Lincoln)Tim struggles with the Operator and befriends a guy who just won't leave him alone. (Pre-Marble Hornets)
Relationships: Timothy Wright & Brian Thomas
Series: they were kids that i once knew [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719250
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	1. remind me that i am a fool

It’s a terrible habit, Tim knows this, but he can’t help it. The click of a lighter, the heat of a flame erupting within the palm of his hand. All of it, like a controlled destruction. From the first time he had ignited the tiny flame, he had been transfixed in fascination. From that sudden interest, came a deluge of other harmful tendencies.

One day, after a particularly hard day of classes, Tim reclined at his desk while he clicked his lighter on and off. 

On and off. 

On and off. 

The click and consequential appearance of the flame soothed him.

Although his dorm room was mostly silent, the idle chatter of a pop song managed to soothe the eerie silence from the confines of an old stereo that he had found at a thrift shop. Evening had just arrived with all the splendor of any other night, but his roommate had yet to show his face. Although a common, if daily occurrence, Tim felt grateful for their routine. Their first interaction was fraught with first day jitters and anxiety, which only led to the habitual ritual of ignoring each other—this was after they established that while they were compatible on paper, they didn’t mesh together well in real life. Tim’s roommate wasn’t a bad person, far from it, but Tim… Tim wanted to keep to himself. 

So, it was in the middle of scribbling notes into a battered notebook that Tim finally stopped.

Stared.

His desk faced the window, a compromise ceded to him after his roommate confessed that he preferred studying in the campus library. Outside, the sun was entering the final stages of its descent towards the horizon. Above, the telltale white disk of the moon lazily floated in the milky darkness of upcoming night. However, that wasn’t what had Tim transfixed. 

Partially hidden by tall trees, a lone figure stood, obscured by the shadows that seemed to be drawn towards it. The figure, dark and tall, looked nowhere, but stared up at him at the same time. Unmoved, Tim blinked rapidly and tried to reason with himself. The figure was too far away, too abnormal, and out of the ordinary for anyone to take an interest in inconsequential, trivial Tim.

Again, he focused on the figure again, his sense of unease barreling to the forefront of his mind. The figure just stood there and the more Tim became thoroughly aware that his vision blurred and warped, flickers of white and dark spots invaded his vision as if he was staring at staticky television. Furthermore, his ears, once soothed by the inanities of that year’s “best” hit, were assaulted by shrieks and otherworldly sounds.

One of his hands clutched one of his locks of hair while the other clumsily ransacked the contents of his desk for his medication. He would have kept his eyes steadily trained on that figure, but his throat was closing up, water began to well in his lungs. Now, all of his attention was focused on finding his pills.

Damn, where were they?

Coughs, harsh and loud and painful, too painful, but familiar wracked havoc on his lungs. His throat.

He keeled over.

His knees groaned in protest as he fell onto the ground. At that moment, Tim caught sight of his backpack that he had dropped after attending classes. One of the pockets bulged out a little, the telltale outline of his bottle of medication could clearly be seen. Saving his curses for later, Tim dug for the bottle, unscrewed the top once he retrieved it, and popped a pill into his mouth. Years of medication and hospital trips ensured that he was well practiced with swallowing the pill without water as an aid.

Once the medication dissolved and traveled through his bloodstream, the static and the horrible sensation of drowning left him. A few coughs left his throat and Tim became all too aware that saliva coated his lips, the bodily liquid faintly speckled with droplets of blood.

Not bad, he couldn’t help but think to himself. 

It had been months since his last major coughing fit and that time, he had thought that he hacked up a lung. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the blood stuck and clumped together as if it had started clotting while in his throat. Mildly disgusted, but not too surprised, Tim grabbed a few tissues straight from the roll and roughly wiped his mouth clean. 

Task finished and the tissue safely thrown into a wastebasket, Tim plopped himself back behind the desk.

The sun had long since retired into the bowels of the earth while the moon perched itself in the sky. Streetlights illuminated the passers by and the chatter of laughing teenagers nearly overpowered the music that drifted lazily from his radio.

Tim glanced at the areas where he had last seen the figure.

Like always, the figure most prominent in his hallucinations have disappeared. Foolishly, Tim thought that it would be the last time he would see the figure, but he thought that last time. 

And the time before that. 

And the time before that.

Enough. He tore his gaze from the window and back to his notebook. His words were scrawled in clumsy cursive. Some of the loops were angular while other letters refused to connect. Sometimes, the spaces between words spanned the width of his thumb while others barely gave before another word was written.

All of it was garbage.

Useless.

Just like him.

For a moment, he closed the cover of his notebook so that he wouldn’t have to see it anymore. He reached for his lighter, which had remained undisturbed while he had his hallucinogenic spell. Immediately, he took it in hand and flicked it on. 

And off. 

And on. 

And off. 

And on.

As the flame danced in his grasp, an idea struck him.

Quickly, as if he were about to get caught, the young man ripped out the messily written notes. He ripped the sheet in half. Then in fourths. Then eighths. And so on until Tim littered his desk with scraps of lined paper. The effect looked like he had upended a bag of white confetti all over his desk.

Not that it would matter. 

A scrap of paper fit perfectly within the palm of his hand.

Click.

Carefully, Tim brought the flame close to the paper. As the paper caught alight, the lighter flicked off and Tim watched as the small flame consumed the willing tinder. The edges of the paper arched into itself, curling in inanimate, wordless pain while small wisps of smoke drifted from the palm of his hand.

Just as quickly as the paper had caught on fire, the flame began to die.

Breathing in the heady scent of smoke, Tim belatedly realized that he left his window open. The scent, although new, was quick to permeate the air of the dorm room. If his roommate came by—

He refused to finish that thought.

Instead, his fingers heaved the window open. At once, the sweet smell grew less potent, but wasn’t that a shame? Tim wanted to bask into the comfort of smoke once more. Quickly, he lit a multitude of scraps of paper on the windowsill. Small bonfires, like fragile beacons, shined as bright as they could before becoming consumed with the very force that brought them to life.

That was how his roommate found him, his eyes lazily following the plumes of smoke that rose gracefully into the air. His fingers were smudged with a hint of ash. The air, still and lazy within the evening ours, oozed with the sweetness of smoke.

Tim raised his head in a halfhearted hello before turning back to his lighter. The rhythmic click lulled him into peace as the moon rose higher into the sky. 

  
  
  



	2. make me love myself so that i might love you

A few minutes ago, it was half past one. When Tim checked his watch again, he found that it was a quarter to four. Had he fallen asleep? All he could remember was closing his eyes for only a few seconds! Perhaps he had misread the time? Yet, he could have sworn…

Tim slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. 

Whatever. 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, the dregs of sleep loosening its grip on him. He shifted into a seated position, a hand dragging down his face. Although he was tired, he was awake. 

Tim swung his leg over the side of his bed and kicked his feet into his shoes. Old and worn, his shoes lazily slapped against the hardwood flooring as he made his way towards the door. On the way there, he stumbled over something that just so happened to make a muffled thudding noise. Tim bit back a curse as he glanced over his shoulder to see that his roommate faintly stirred, but rolled over in sleep. Tim pursed his lips and fled out the door.

It was early in the morning; all the streets were lit and the sound of cars broke through the silence. As he made his way out of campus, Tim kept his head low and his hands in his pockets. His footsteps were slow, but purposeful as he neared a local park.

A lone street lamp lit up the contents of the area: a jungle gym, monkey bars, and a sandbox. Feeling a little foolish, but otherwise more well rested than he had been in weeks, he made a beeline towards a bench. As the hard planes of wood and metal caressed his body, he leaned forward and rested his forward against the palms of his hands.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees pervaded Tim’s mind. It was usually a pretty sound, one that had accompanied him so many times in the past… Almost reluctantly, Tim raised his head and watched as the trees at the edge of the playground sway in time with the early morning breeze.

Above, the night sky began to slowly transform into dawn. A palette of pinks, red, and oranges slowly infected the early morning sky in a magnificent conglomeration of a brilliant masterpiece. A bit confused, Tim glanced down at his watch. This time, the watch informed him that it was a little bit past six. Again, for some odd reason, Tim had lost time without even knowing it.

He took note of it. 

He’ll have to schedule an appointment with his doctor later.

As Tim rose from the bench, he became all too aware of the aches and pains that accompanied the action. Give it a few more minutes, he thought to himself. A few hours of sitting in one position wouldn’t kill him… but it would definitely affect his classroom performance.

That was definitely something to look forward to.

He trotted out of the park and down the sidewalks of a nearly empty street. It was early enough that traffic wasn’t something to worry about, but late enough to know that people were waking up to a brand new day. As the streetlights flicked off, Tim found himself approaching a convenience store. As he processed the image, his stomach growled.

That solved whatever question had concerning his breakfast. A quick pat on his hooded sweater’s pockets revealed that he had a couple bucks on him along with the telltale rectangular shape of his lighter. The familiar weight and shape calmed Tim as he trudged his way into the store.

After making a beeline for chips and a bottle of water in hand, he walked towards the cashier. He was a middle-aged guy, strands of white and grey interpreted among locks of deep brown. He had a tired set of eyes that were set deep within the hollowed bags that lay under his eyes. After a brief acknowledgement of the morning, the cashier rang up his purchases, the total nearly emptying Tim of the money in his pockets.

Daylight lit the world anew. Within the homey, if tired atmosphere of town, Tim could almost convince himself that everything was fine. Ha, well as fine as a near broke college student in America could be classified as fine. With an urgency that compelled him to go back to the dorm or to the dining hall for his sparse breakfast, he strode briskly down the street.

A small tune left his lips as he whistled a small ditty that he had been composing in his head for a few days now. Although not classically trained, he knew his way around a handful of instruments and he could recreate simple or famous songs by ear if you gave him enough time.

So engrossed in the tune that he was equal parts ad libbing and performing from memory, Tim almost didn't catch the tail end of someone yelling something at him. Nonplussed, he stopped and turned, his bag of goods swinging noisily in his grasp. Behind him, there was another young man, probably a fellow student, dressed in a mustard yellow hoodie and jeans. His face was faintly awash with red—obviously a side effect from running.

“Er… Can I help you?” He bit down the urge to groan when he realized that his voice had cracked at the last possible moment. It was a pet peeve of his, but he had spent years cultivating his grown up, mature voice, damn it! Such a stupid thing to feel bashful about, but Tim clung tightly to that emotion. It was better than showing fear and obvious discomfort that arose from the fact that a stranger was tailing him.

The other young man, a sunny smile on his face and charisma coating his voice, said, “Actually, that’s more of my line.”

Confused, Tim canted his head. “Can you… help me?”

The stranger’s broad smile widened further. He was pleased with Tim’s response before gesturing for Tim to come forward. Alarm bells rang in his head, but Tim followed the unspoken command. After all, they were both in broad daylight—what was the worst that could happen?

“Yessir! You dropped this!” The stranger held up an object that Tim was more than well acquainted with: his lighter. “You looked like you were in such a hurry that you dropped this little guy!”

Tim held out a hand, to which the young man happily dropped the lighter into his palm. Not knowing what to make of the stranger, he awkwardly took a step back as he thanked him.

“Yeah, um… gotta… gotta go, I guess.” Tim made a move as if to go back to what he was doing before, which was walking back to campus, but the stranger had other ideas.

“Go to college around here?” The stranger easily kept pace with Tim. It was a fact that Tim noted, but could do nothing about. It would just seem rude to just run off a person who had just helped him out. “I’m not sure if I’ve seen you around campus.”

“Oh, uh… I just go to class and um…” There was no way he could say that he usually spent most of his time hiding inside his dorm room other than the occasional trip to the library. 

Luckily, the stranger must have sensed the awkwardness that lingered in the air after Tim’s voice had trailed off. The stranger cast an encouraging, if sympathetic look down at him.

“There are plenty of organizations that are still open to new members this late into the semester.” The stranger tapped his chin in thought before saying, “There are organizations about journalism, religious studies, filmmaking… are you interested?”

Still a little unversed by the sudden friendliness, Tim could only shrug in indecision. 

The stranger laughed a little, offering a sympathetic nod at him.

“Not one of those social types, huh?”

“Yeah… you could say that.” Before Tim could properly think about what he was going to say, the words came tumbling out. The words were hushed and mumbled, seemingly intelligible, yet the meaning was evident. “Why are you being so nice? You don’t have to, uh, walk me back or anything.” When Tim ventured a look to see the stranger’s face, only to catch a glance as the crestfallen expression on the stranger’s face. “I-I don’t mean any offense! J-just—“

A bemused laugh left the stranger’s mouth.. “I guess I put you off there, huh? I go jogging early in the morning. I go past the college and the playground.” Playground? He must have seen the look on Tim’s face because the stranger nodded, but his eyes became almost bashful. “Yeah, I saw you slumped over there and thought you looked a bit bummed out. I was going to talk to you then, but you got up and left. I finished my run and by a stroke of luck, I saw you coming out of the store! You happened to drop your lighter and well… here we are!”

Through the stranger’s spiel, Tim found himself gradually relaxing. After years of awkward social interaction and stunted conversation, Tim had often relegated himself to the role of listener. It was… freeing in a way to hear that this kind stranger, as unorthodox as he might seem, seemed to care about someone he had just met. 

He cared. 

He cared about Tim.

Yes, he cared in that courteous, caring way that strangers could barely manage, but Tim liked it all the same.

“That’s good to know. For a moment, I thought you were stalking me.”

The both of them shared a laugh.

At that moment, as the joy of laughter left his lips and eased the tension out of his shoulders, Tim had come to a decision. After years of hospital care, of hallucinations that plagued his every waking moment, Tim had never been bound to someone. He had never done the same song and dance of friendship that others had before him.

Tim wanted—no, needed—to prolong this moment of camaraderie. 

“Hey, uh…” Tim ran a hand through his thick locks before clearing his throat. “The name’s Tim. You?”

The stranger’s grin returned, a sight that Tim hoped he would become familiar with for as much time as possible.

“Hi, I’m Brian.”

  
  



	3. don't make me a liar, 'cause i swear to god, when i said it i thought it was true

It had become a ritual. Every early morning, Tim would jerk awake by some unknown force, walk towards the playground, and laze in the awakening early morning. Sometimes, Tim could have sworn that something was in the trees, something that would always vanish if Tim focused on it. Always, if that incidence occurred, Tim would pop a pill into his mouth and hurriedly leave.

For the most part, however, Tim would play with his lighter or smoke. Back at home, his mother had warned him about the dangers of smoking and while Tim had listened, he didn’t heed her warnings. Before the doctors had settled on the prescription that had kept his hallucinations and seizures at bay, Tim could only find relief in… unsavory practices—as his mother had eloquently put it. 

Smoking was something that was always out of reach, always seemingly adult-like. He had been in no hurry to grow up, but it was irritating to have either his decisions taken away by the fact that he was still a minor or be given choices that were too narrow that it didn’t feel like he had a choice anyway. Regardless of his reasoning, it was only a matter of time before Tim fell prey to the age old tradition of puberty: teenage rebellion.

When he was fourteen, he had been offered a cigarette by a fellow mental patient. It had been the summer, the weather was muggy and the sun was merciless in its brightness. Tim had been scheduled for his biweekly visit to his psychiatrist when he had encountered a boy only a year or two older than him. He had a room down the hall at the hospital where Tim had stayed throughout the majority of his childhood. They rarely spoke, and when they did, Tim was silent while the other rambled.

“Damn, I thought that you died in the fire.” The older boy cast an impish smirk at Tim while his eyes assessed him. “Guess my luck isn’t that good.”

A well practiced mask of indifference settled on Tim’s face. Although he could safely say that they were on amicable terms (relatively), it was still fairly early in the morning and he wasn’t feeling up to conversation. Unfortunately the older boy was the sort of person who would rather fill the air with his nonsensical ramblings than to stew in silence. Likewise, Tim had also forgotten how persuasive and annoying the older boy could be.

“Aww, come on, Timmy! Why are you always like this?” The boy sidled up to Tim and tempted to poke Tim on the arm, but he quickly evaded the attempt. The older boy, affronted by the action, scoffed. “Geeze, we’re not in-patient anymore, we can touch each other to our heart’s content!”

Tim, with all the straight-laced snark he could muster, answered, “No.”

The other boy quit his simpering and awarded Tim with a smug grin. 

“Hey, I got you to talk.”

“So you have. What do you want?”

“You want to skip out on all this crap?”

“My mom will kill me.”

The older boy shrugged, a noncommittal action that annoyed Tim to no end. What was truly maddening was that while it had been a while since they had a one on one conversation, he did have a way of getting under Tim’s skin.

“Your mom’s not here.” He cast Tim a side glance, one that glimmered with mischief. “Aren’t you a little curious? I’m not just going to leave, I’m going to do something cool.”

Much to his irritation, Tim found himself perking up at that. As a kid practically raised in a hospital, he wasn’t up to date with what was considered cool. He had seen other kids his age around his neighborhood, but he was too awkward to pursue conversation with anyone. Nowadays, loneliness was his only companion.

“Gotcha,” the older boy said, all too pleased with himself.

Tim folded his arms across his chest.“Shut up. What are you going to do?”

The older boy didn’t respond. Instead, he rose from his seat and headed towards the exit. Dumbfounded, Tim could only gaze at the retreating back. Before the boy could completely disappear, Tim cast an uncertain glance at the receptionist. After noting that the woman was busy on her phone, Tim leaped up from his chair and raced out the door.

Inside, Tim felt his heart beat rapidly, all of his thoughts seemed to jump around in his mind like bumper cars. His hands became clammy and a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead—be it the product of the sun or his own conscience, Tim had no idea.

Following the older boy proved to be an easy task as he opted to make a beeline for the back of the clinic. It was a barren area that only housed a dumpster and a brief respite from the sun.

“Great, now what?”

The older boy reached into his pocket before withdrawing a lighter and a box of cigarettes. Tim’s blood ran cold at the sight. He was well acquainted with the dangers of smoking, but to see it up close… To see how the older boy simply lit up the white and dirty yellow stick and took a drag from it was unsettling in an eerie way. People would often speak of the dangers of contracting lung cancer or polluting the air, but they never said how easy it was to light up and breathe in the chemicals. 

For some odd reason, Tim felt envious of the other boy.

Tim was struggling to the outside world while this guy was living life to the fullest! Where was the justice? The feeling of want, of desire to be part of a world that he had been rejected from for so long grew strong. He didn’t notice that the other boy was blowing a cloud of smoke into his face until the older boy snapped his fingers.

“Wanna try?”

Tim wanted to run.

Tim wanted to stay.

As his conscience warred in his mind, the older boy played with his lighter, flicking it up and down, the light of the flame inconsequential in the heat of the afternoon sun. 

Click. Click. Click.

“You’re annoying. Stop that.” 

“My appointment is in a few minutes.” The boy studied the smoke that wafted into the air before he lazily regarded Tim. “Make up your mind, Timmy, or you aren’t getting anything.”

Click. Click. Cli—

“Fine.” Tim watched as the older boy left his cigarette in his mouth and took out the box to withdraw one of them. In fluid motion, he stuck the stick into Tim’s mouth and lit it. 

The smell… The heat… The burning sensation….

Tim was… Tim was—

Loud coughs filled the back of the clinic as Tim accidentally dropped the cigarette onto the ground. It was only through sheer force of will that Tim managed to stand on his feet. Moments passed before Tim became aware that the other patient was raucously laughing at him, his own cigarette held loosely by two fingers, the smoke still wafting from the tip. 

“That was—Wow!” The older boy looked down at Tim. “Wanna go again?”

A part of him wanted to leave, to go back inside and ask the receptionist for a glass of water. 

But—

He finally had a choice.

He could choose, damn all the consequences. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tim lied. He squared his shoulders and nodded towards the boy. “Let’s do it again.”

“Atta boy!” The older boy ruffled Tim’s hair, to which Tim halfheartedly batted his hands away. 

That was a long time ago. If Tim had the power to go back in time to that particular moment, he would have taken the cigarette way. In fact, he wouldn’t have followed that boy in the first place. Heck, he could barely remember what the boy looked like, or his name. If he had been more cautious, he would have saved himself the years of becoming tolerant then addicted to something so dangerous and yet so calming at the same time.

But, Tim had no way of doing that. All he had to his name was the present and prospects of the future. As he took a drag, he could hear the telltale sound of sneakers slapping on concrete until they began running on the grass.

Brian plopped next to Tim, his chest heaving from physical exertion. 

“You should pick up a new hobby,” he commented. “Smoking kills.”

Tim, deliberately, took another long drag before answering. “That’s the idea.”

Unaware of Tim’s past, Brian laughed. He thought it was a joke. Perhaps it was. Yet, Tim left his… his friend to laugh while he played with the trigger of his lighter.

  
  



	4. i don't know if i count, but i'm trying my best

The thing about being Brian’s friend was that if he became passionate about something, Brian tended to ramble. 

A lot.

Sometimes, Brian would talk about upcoming parties, of the pretty girls and boys that were part of their classes, and the ethics of assigning so many last minute projects when midterms were just about to start. Other times, he would talk about conspiracy theories, secret codes, and creepy videos that he found online.When Brian felt like putting his psychology major to good use, he would spew true facts about the human psyche and the messed up experiments that were held in the midst of the twentieth century before ethics and morality restrained most researchers from pursuing such research.

Often, Tim would listen in contentment, but sometimes, he would find himself interjecting with mild sarcasm and attempts to debunk Brian’s theories. In return, Brian would laugh it off before regaling him with even more information that he had just so happened to read about.

Today, Tim found himself listening to Brian rave about one of his other friends. Because he was talking a mile a minute, Tim barely caught the friend’s name before Brian began talking about video editing classes, an upcoming production or something, and Applebees? Whatever the case, Tim found himself basking in Brian’s presence, his voice an easygoing thrum amidst the peacefulness of the campus library.

Eventually, however, Brian quieted and allowed his head to rest against a psychology textbook that he should have been studying hours ago. A little unused to the silence, Tim hesitantly prodded a finger against the back of Brian’s neck, a small chuckle escaping his lips when he saw Brian shy away from his friendly touch. 

“Damn, Brian, I didn’t take you for the ticklish type.”

“Don’t start.” Brian muttered as he looked up at his friend. Although his voice was low and threatening, the smirk on his face spoke otherwise. “I swear to God, don’t you—”

Tim let his fingers dance across the expanse of Brian’s neck, which elicited short little snorts and gasps of breath indicative of Brian’s ticklish nature. In response to Tim’s attack, Brian swatted Tim’s arm. At that exact moment, Brian’s cell phone began to vibrate on top of the table. As Brian scanned the contents of the text on his flip phone, a bright smile lit up his face, an all too familiar sight that warmed Tim’s heart. Nimble fingers punched in a short reply before Brian flipped the cell phone shut and shoved into his pea coat. 

Brian’s clear blue eyes twinkled merrily as he turned towards Tim. “What do you think about heading to one of the labs?”

Tim scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion as he played with one of the pages of his notebook. He canted his head to the side and asked, “Why?”

“You know that one guy I helped with a few of Dr. Warren’s projects?”

For a moment, Tim’s mind blanked. 

Brian was quite the social butterfly. He was that sort of guy who knew all sorts of people on campus, regardless if he had classes with them or not. Often, Tim would marvel at the fact at how friendly and how connected Brian was in relation to people; it was almost scary how much Brian knew about people in general. Anyway, Brian did speak of that “one guy” from Dr. Warren’s cinematography classes. In fact, Brian had spoken at length about this particular person’s passion and creativity, but for the life of him, Tim had to take a second or so to remember who it was.

The name started with… an A? What was it?

Anthony Carlton? 

Alfred Kramer? 

No, no… It was… 

Alex Kralie!

“It’s that Kralie guy?” At Brian’s bright nod of confirmation, Tim found himself brightening as well. Thank God he was such an attentive listener. “Did he finally start production on that movie of his?”

Brian shook his head before leaning in close to Tim. “Alex set up auditions for today!” 

Although Brian kept his voice low—they were still in the presence of cranky college students and stern librarians—Tim could tell that he was desperately seeking an outlet. His voice seemed to strain against the constriction of poliety in the presence of the library; Brian was practically bouncing in his seat at the novelty of auditions. 

After making sure that he copied down the correct formulas in order to complete the assignment, Tim gestured for Brian to continue. To his utter confusion, Brian rose from his chair and started ambling towards the exit. A second passed before Tim began to book it after his friend, shooting apologetic looks at fellow students who had been temporarily disrupted from their studying. 

“Isn’t this great?” Brian’s voice gradually rose higher and higher as they approached the exit. Once they were safely outside, far away from the judging stares of librarians and students alike, Brian began talking at full force and speed. If it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was used to getting his ear talked off for the entirety of their friendship, he would have surely not gotten all of Brian’s thoughts. “Did you know that Alex has been writing the script since he was in high school? Can you believe that? The most I’ve ever done was get Bs in everything and sleep in class.”

Tim chuckled. “He’s planning on becoming a world famous director, right? You think he has the talent for it?”

Brian smirked. “Well, he’s been directing movies as a hobby since he was a kid. This time, though, he’s actually gotten himself a team to make it happen.”

“Huh. Like, uh, a cameraman, actors, and other crew members?”

Brian nodded enthusiastically, his eyes wide with excitement. “He’s hosting auditions today, actually. Who knows, I might get my big break and be the main star for once.”

Tim’s brow furrowed as he replayed past conversations with Brian. “I thought that you already had big roles in high school.”

“Nah.” Brian closed his eyes, as if reliving the past before opening them again. “I was usually part of the stage crew—moving props, making sure that things were where they were supposed to be. If I wasn’t doing that, then they would ask me to help man the camera so we could tape the performances. One of my friends used to say that I was really good at tracking people.’

Tim murmured thoughtfully at the new information. “You never tried auditioning?’

“Well, I did play one of the background characters in… What was it? Never mind that. What’s really important is that I had only one line and I totally nailed it!” A bubble of laughter left his lips as he regarded Tim once more. “It felt so good to have the audience applaud after that one line. For a moment, I thought I was the main character.”

Brian’s wide smile only urged Tim to smile as well. 

It was a common thing that was basically a habit at that point.

Brian simply made Tim happy.

“And you think you could make it? Into the movie, I mean?” Tim hadn’t meant to sound so invested, but that was one of those side effects that came with befriending Brian. Once Brian reeled you in with his charismatic words and charming personality, inevitably, the listener would be just as interested. “Seems like you’re really into this whole acting thing.”

Brian shrugged just a little carelessly. “Even if I don’t get the part or land myself in the move, that doesn’t mean I can’t help out in other ways.”

“Like what? Edit in subliminal messages or cryptic footage?”

“Now that you mention it, that could make for a good prank.” Suddenly, Brian’s eyes bulged out of his head, an idea taking root in his head. Oh, no. Tim knew that face and that meant— 

Brian’s arm snaked around Tim’s shoulders. “Why don’t you—“

“Nah. I’m not good with… acting or whatever.” Tim stuffed his hands into his pockets before awkwardly glaring up at his friend. “I’ll just let you hog the spotlight.”

Brian placed his hand against the left side of his chest, over his heart. “Me? Hoard the spotlight? Preposterous!”

Tim bit back a smile, but Brian saw through him immediately.

“Tell you what, if Alex wants you and you happen to audition, I’ll pay for our dinner tonight.”

Oh, now that was an offer Tim wouldn’t find himself refusing.

“As long as we’re not going to McDonald’s then I’m game.”

“Applebee's then.”

Tim sighed. 

Well, as long as it wasn’t McDonald’s.

As the both of them headed towards the room where the auditions were held, Tim grasped his lighter like a totem bearing good luck. Maybe his life was turning around. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
